Of Coffee Cups and Basement Doors
by ThreeBulletsAtTheDangerParade
Summary: The Black Parade Era: Mikey and Gerard are having a quiet morning, just doing as the Way brothers do, and are enjoying their beloved coffee. But they are, however, in the Paramour Mansion and nothing is what it seems.


Mikey, drowsily stumbled down the stairs of the rickety old Mansion-turned-recording-studio and to the kitchen where the heavenly smell of Starbuck's coffee lulled him forward. Just thinking about the warm paper cup, set rightfully in his hand, helped ease his troubled mind. His mouth began to water as he imagined as the warm, sweet coffee sipped over his cold lips and slid down his throat like a waterfall of goodness that threatened to drown him. Mikey spend up his pace.

After reaching the bottom of the stairs he entered the kitchen to see his brother as usual already sipping on a cup of coffee. Mikey ignored his brother, choosing to acknowledge him after getting a good ol' cup o' Joe in himself.

Gerard smiled fondly, knowing entirely well how his younger brother operated, and handed him the cup. Mikey snatched it greedily out of his hands and tossed himself onto the cold, marble counter. He took a long dragged out sip, letting the warm liquid invade his mouth and ambush in his taste-buds before effortlessly running down his throat like it was second nature. And to the Way brothers it practically was.

Gerard laughed at his little brother, trying and failing to smother his amusement behind the highly worshipped rim of the cup. Mikey really had just rolled out of bed, his brown hair was mused up and all over the place, his face was pale, his cheeks flushed. His eyelashes were encrusted, pillow lines ran across his cheek and the smeared eyeliner that he failed to remove from yesterday made it look like he had dark circles. Mikey was a sight to behold in the mornings.

The younger brother took this time to glare at the silver haired man in front of him. Gerard was awful bipolar in the mornings, one day he would shine brighter than the sun, the next was, "Who gives a fuck? Do I look like I give a fuck? I'm fucking sleeping you motherfucker." And today must have been one of those happy mornings, something that Mikey couldn't understand on a daily basis, yes, but especially when they were where they were.

"I fucking hate you." Mikey muttered. Gerard was too happy. Then again things and places like this excited Gerard, the little creep. Mikey snuck another, weak look at his brother. "And your hair is growing out."

Gerard laughed but fingered his short bangs anyways. "Yeah... I need to get that redone. But I don't know, it looks kinda cool with my dark roots coming through..." Mikey zoned out as Gerard continued to fuss about and contemplate his hair. "Don't get fucking sassy with me Mikey, boy, you've got fucking eyeliner all up the side of your face."

Mikey cursed and futilely tried to rub it away. Gerard laughed in his brother's expense. Mikey gave up, deciding to fix it later when he was more awake and took another long sip of his coffee letting it burn the roof of his mouth.

"I fucking hate this place." Mikey stated after a long silence where the brothers did nothing but space out and drink their concoctions of choice. Gerard passed his brother a sympathetic smile.

"Personally, I don't, but I can understand where you're coming from." Mikey flipped Gee the bird.

"Of course you like this place, you fucking live for horror movies and all that other shit. Besides you're not in _The Blue Room._ That place is fucking creepy, it's a wonder I even go to sleep in there." Gerard offered a small smile.

"You know the guys from Papa Roach said that they had some pretty great out-of-body sex with the stars of Old Hollywood. How about you? Got Marilyn Monroe crawling in your bed at night?" Gerard joked. Mikey glared at him and took another sip of coffee. Gerard seemed to have already finished off his. Gerard paused, as if in a daze, "Do you think she's as good as they all made her out to be?"

Mikey rolled his eyes. "Aren't you married?" He retorted. Gerard grinned,

"Of course I'm married. But I'm just saying, who knows? What if I come face to face with some dead old movie starlet, she's fucking hot, and she's in my bed. Besides what if it's lie fucking rape? Who's to say I can't enjoy it?"

Mikey plugged his ears. "I think you should shut up now, you pervert. I can live my whole life without knowing about your fucking sex life." Gerard laughed.

"I don't know, Mikey, something tells me you want to know all about what me and the wife-y do, especially an old celebrity, like Miss Monroe, or even the old lady of the house... Who was it? The one who died going to some party or something?"

The door in the back of the kitchen caught Mikey's eye. The door gave him the chills. It apparently led to the basement, but the door was locked and the key was nonexistent. But no one dared to open it, in fear of might be behind it. It was doors like that that were just better off left untouched. "Daisy Canfield." Mikey said softly, his eyes still glued to the door, the red paint was peeling and made it look like blood was running down it. Mikey shuddered.

"Right! That's the one! I've seen pictures of her, she is rather beautiful..."

"You think every girl is beautiful, Gee." Mikey replied playfully. He still couldn't remove his eyes from the locked door.

Gerard huffed. "Is that so wrong? Every girl is beautiful in their own way and right, so why should I say otherwise?" Mikey, sensing a rant coming on about the poor way society is run and anything else Gerard despised, interrupted.

"No you shouldn't. Everyone is beautiful." Mikey amended, finally turning his gaze from the door and to his brother. "Just making a point."

"Whatever." Gerard grumbled. Gerard let his eyes wander to the door Mikey had been eyeing. Gerard was all about horror movies and anything that went bump in the night, but that door chilled him to the bone. This whole Mansion set him off. Especially those recent night-terrors. Just as Mikey noted, the peeling paint looked like blood and the shadows it cast on to the floor made it look like it was flooding towards the pair.

Mikey looked back at the door.

"What do you think is behind it?" Mikey whispered behind the coffee cup rim. Gerard gave a small shrug.

"Not a clue... A body perhaps? Bodies? And age old torture chamber? A run down science lab?" He shrugged again. "My money's on either a body or some evil spirit that's been locked away. But mostly a body or two." Mikey found himself inclined to agree with his hazel-green eyed brother. Gerard was not only an expert on these kinds of things but he had a pretty powerful eye for anything unnatural, from the supernatural, if the place is haunted or not, to depression in fans and people.

"All I know, though, is that I do _not_ want to find out, or at least be here when they do." Mikey once again agreed whole heartily with Gerard. The mood had gone considerably south, so Mikey chose to try and ease it up in his own awkward way.

"So... do you think I'd have a chance with Marilyn Monroe?" He joked weakly, turning his head so he completely faced his brother and couldn't see the haunting door. Gerard followed his example.

"You kidding me? You're my brother, of course there has to be someone willing to get in bed with ya, I mean other than Alicia." Mikey laughed. "That is if girls dig skinny-ass white boys with knobby knees." Gerard teased. Mikey laughed.

"Oh yeah? How about you, Mr. I'm The Most Fucking Gay Straight Man On The Face Of The Planet-" Suddenly a low, freezing breeze rolled in, followed by the creaking of rusting hinges on an old door. Both brothers froze and slowly turned to see the basement door slam close.

The brothers sprinted out of the kitchen faster than if the Grim Reaper was right behind them, but for all they knew, he might as well have been, and the coffee was forgotten.

**A creepier story for you guys. Love the Way brothers. But this story is actually, partially true. The dialogue and stuff isn't, but how Mikey and Gerard were in the kitchen at the Paramour Mansion drinking coffee when all of a sudden the door to the closed basement slammed shut and them running for their lives is true. Also the thing about Papa Roach is true too, some of the guys in the band actually said they had sex with ghosts from Old Hollywood. And Daisy Canfield actually owned the place before she died on her way either to or from a party by driving over the edge of a cliff. It is now a recording studio and MCR recorded The Black Parade there. Excuse the immense usage of the F-bomb, not a total fan of the word, I use, but not much , but because I was writing as the Way brothers, it was needed rather extensively.**

**TBATDP**


End file.
